


Learning Lotor

by SteepleJack (RooftopRush)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bonding, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Everything I Touch Turns to Fluff, Keitor, Keitor Appreciation Zine, M/M, Mixed Blood (KeitorZine2k18), feelings happen, keith pov, one-upmanship, takes place towards the end of the series, two sneaky boys get sneaky with each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 01:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15132290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RooftopRush/pseuds/SteepleJack
Summary: At the end of the war Keith sees in Lotor what Shiro saw in him.Theres no way he can let him rot in a prison cell after that.----Or, Keith finally gets to know Lotor a little, having missed his opportunity to do so while he was away from the team. The results are unexpected, for both parties.





	Learning Lotor

 

It takes years to quell the Galra. It takes a week to get Lotor to trial. By then, everyone is eager to have one of the biggest threats to the new, fragile peace in the universe gone.

 

The ship transporting him from Holding and to Intergalactic Court _must_ be secure. There can be no greater comfort, no greater security, than the capable lions of Voltron for the job.

 

Unfortunately, no amount of insistence on their busy schedules, nor assurances in allied forces and other strong assets is enough to convince them. That’s how Keith finds himself taking a week from the team, just to transport Lotor, incarcerated in a pod, via the Black Lion.

 

He was never there to bond with Lotor. He never got to work alongside him, or plan with him like the others did. No broken bread, no formalities or introductions. He’d been on the outskirts all along with the Blade of Marmora. Unintentionally becoming Voltrons Ace in the Hole in the end.

 

He never thought about how confused their opponents must have been about it-- About how Voltron had still been formed successfully despite taking out Shiro,-- Until he meets with Lotor to transport him for the first time, and his expression changes minutely.

 

His brows raise, his eyes widen-- Not in surprise, but in recognition. No doubt in bits and pieces, in waiting carefully behind the cell to see _who was it_ , if not Takashi Shirogane.

 

Maybe he remembers him as the random blade operative at the Kral Zera, crashing into him mid-jump. He looks like he wants to open his mouth, full of scorn, address him not by his name but as _You_ and bleed all his secrets dry-- Each one containing his demise. Each one the reason he is here today.

 

And yet, he says nothing.

 

 

* * *

 

“I always wondered why the current Paladins armor did not match their Lions.” Lotor croaks, his voice nothing of the smooth and liquid textile it was the last time he heard it. It shocks Keith from his daze, making him jump a little more in his seat than he’d like to admit.

 

Quickly, Lotors clears his throat and starts coughing. Adjusting. It’s been three days since they started their trip, but who knows how many more since he’d actually spoken. It’s oddly scarier like that, knowing Lotors mouth is his most dangerous weapon.

 

Keith reminds himself that Lotors Pod comes equipped with a Muzzle, if he needs it.

 

His brain supplies him that he won’t be talking to anyone for quite some time soon, either.

 

“Your Green and Yellow Paladins, they match just fine. Just like the paladins of old. But your Blue and Black Paladins-- And then Allura, in Pink. I never quite got around to asking about it.”

 

And then there’s you.” He pauses, drawing in a breath. Keith adjusts his hands on Blacks controls, and feels the Lion coaxing him gently in his mind.

 

 _And then there’s me,_ He thinks.

 

The air grows still with Lotors admission, and stiller with Keith’s silence. If Lotor is used to fulfilling and exceeding expectations of others, then Keith is used to fulfilling and exceeding expectation of himself. He doesn’t Have to answer.

 

Lotor seems to get the hint, and continues. “Might there be a story there?” He asks. “It’s such a small inconsistency, really. Dull even, one might think, in a grander perspective. Perhaps it was just preferential, but it couldn’t help but bother me, for some reason.

 

“I thought initially, the Red Armor might simply be preserved. It was, after all, originally belonging to King Alfor, who Allura could only give so many respects to. Perhaps his armor was one of them. But then I later would find the armor you wear now, hanging on display, awaiting another wearer. No casket near, no ceremonial Altean respects decorating it. Nothing.”

 

“Primitive Humans might simply lack the proper coronial receptors, I thought-

 

-And then..”

 

“There’s me.” Keith interrupted, not needing any of Lotors preambles to know where this was heading.

 

“And then you came along.” Lotor confirmed.

 

“If you’re wondering how many-”

 

“No.” Lotor interrupts now, and then coughs again. Keith holds steady to his Lion, their connection strong, and keeps his eyes ahead on their environment. “I seek not battle strategies, or winning secrets. I have been incarcerated for pheebs. Do not make a fool out of me.” His voices seethes with indignation, the frown escaping his lips and into his voice.

 

“Then what _are_ you asking for?” Keith snaps.

 

“A story.”

 

It’s such a simple answer it makes Keith stop, for a minute. The immediate, obvious response, is that this is just what Lotor wants. And then Blacks reminds him, a gentle calm in his mind, that he’s there too. Keith stays silent, and thinks it over.

 

This is, essentially, the last conversations Lotor will ever have. He goes over every detail of the story in his mind, looking for anything valuable besides what the Galra already know. That they are from Earth. That they are of the same species. That they are close. All things known. Not new by any stretch.

 

The only thing Lotor doesn’t know, is him. Personally. And there’s no real way to take advantage of that. Not when that person is Keith Kogane.

 

“We did match, at one point.” He starts.

 

There’s a tentative pause, after that. An interested, “ _Oh_?” Like Lotor is licking the words up. He wonders if his governess deprived him of bedtime stories. What made him so thirsty for even trivial knowledge, like this.

 

“Pidge, Lance, Hunk, Shiro-- And Me. None of us even knew Aliens existed until about seven pheebs ago. We were all shot into space at once, thrust into the war and became paladins. Originally, I was chosen by the Red Lion. Lance was chosen by Blue.” Keith shrugs in his seat, though Lotor cannot see it. “Things happened. I left the team before they allied with you.”

 

“And you came back-- After the alliance broke?” Lotor asks, like he’s trying to grasp air. Like details are the bane of his existence, angry for the answers he does not have. Keith decides right then and there that it was all worth it, to be the trump card. Voltrons Ace in the Hole. To be the unexpected answer that caused him so many problems. To be once forgotten, and now never more important. To know he is the cause of all Lotor’s failure, right then there. Keith decides right then, that he likes it.

 

His hands leave the controls, his cockpit seat swinging back and swirling around to face Lotor, dead on. “No,” He says, assured. Calm. Mouth a smirk to meet Lotor’s scowl. “I came back before it broke, to break it myself.”

 

 

* * *

 

Lotor pieces more and more of it together as Keith talks, and Keith talks like an informal dictionary. He cites mission dates for Lotor to chart star maps to. He gives names like he should give identification numbers. Slowly, in the middle of the two weeks, Lotor learns a What. Not a Who.

 

Keith thought that was what he wanted.

 

“You’re… Galra.” Lotors breath is audible through his security pod. His voice says First Fireworks and New Life and World Wonders. When Keith turns to look back at him in his pod, his face matches, and he doesn’t know how to feel about that.

 

He’d been in the middle of changing his armor. His helmet heavy on his shoulders, his suit in need of cleaning. His face was bright and uncovered, unlike the rest of his body.

  
“How can you tell?” Keith asked tentatively.

 

“Your eyes.” Lotor answers reverently. Nears towards the glass like Keith is a specimen captured, rather than he himself. “I was ordained with information during my time with the rest of your team. Your species does not naturally exhibit hues of that color in the Iris.”

 

“And?” Keith says, almost defensively.

 

“It’s beautiful.”

 

It catches him off guard, is what it does. Sends his skin prickling, his mind questioning. After a moment he turns with resolution, reaching for the controls on Lotor’s pod,--  
  
“Wait!” Keith stops.  
  
His hand hovers over the controls. Lotor continues, “Violet is the most prominent hue of our people. Yet even in known hybrids, does it rarely end up in our eyes. Usually it infects the skin, the nails. The hair. I did not mean any offense.”  
  
Keith sighs, lowering his hand. “You mean your species.” Keith corrects, and Lotors face crumples into something not disdain, nor anger. Sympathy? Empathy? It’s… sentimental, of a sort. Keith tries to turn away, his Helmet too far from his skin now.

 

“On Earth, it’s not rare for orphans to have defects.” _To be broken. To be freaks. To be doomed from birth._ Keith rezips his suit, and dons his helmet.turns his back to Lotor.  “There’s nothing rare about it.”

 

“On Daibazaal, we believed that our lightened eyes were meant to guide us towards it. That those without were unlucky. Yet to receive it. I’m not speaking on behalf of the Galra.”

 

Keith turns then, locking eyes with Lotor once more beyond his visor. “Then who’s half _are_ you speaking on?”

 

“My own.”

 

Lotor places a long gloved hand over the glass in front of him. Keith is confused.

 

“Our species is complex. Resilient. Advanced. Most hybrids are rare to begin with, and do not breed well. Outcasted for existing alone. I was no different. Beauty is not a color, paladin. It is a difference. A strength brought on from it.”  
  
For a moment, Keith stares in dawning comprehension. He’s calling him beautiful not because he’s galra, not because he’s a hybrid, but because of how he is, who is, in order to be despite it. That his eyes signify that. Lotor isn’t the first to compliment them, but he’s definitely the first to phrase it like _that_. And Keith hates the way it captivates his attention for a moment. And that one moment turns out to be all Lotor needs to notice yet another thing about him. His brows raising, his expression becoming more endeared than admiring.

 

“Oh my,” He says, “Is that a blush?”  
  
Keith's hand shoots out and taps the controls quicker than he can breathe, causing a dark veil to cover the glass cell holding Lotor, blinding him. Behind it, a joyed charmed laughter comes fourth, and Keith quickly makes his way back to Blacks chair, trying to tune it out.

 

“Did you just-” Lotor chuckles. Keith's ears burn inside his helmet. “Did you just _blind me_ , to hide _your face_?”

 

* * *

 

It is the last day of their journey together. And now Keith knows why his team hates him. It’s because they like him. And it hurts, to like someone who is not up to any good.

 

And now, he’s beginning to like him too.

 

“You’re awfully small, for a half breed.”

 

He regrets saying anything at all. Black is a steady support inside of his mind, kneading biscuits into his back mentally. Lotors voice, however, is a little bit louder.

 

“It’s aggravating in one way. That someone of such small stature should defeat his larger brethren. In another way-- It’s cute.”

 

It’s clear now, more than ever, he was never planning to escape. He never fooled himself into thinking he could. He’s just having fun with his last weeks before his inevitable life sentence. And Keith, humiliatingly, has been exploited for that fun. It’s a small price to pay in the long run, he tells himself. But it’s steadily getting harder to not respond to than Lance himself, and he finds himself watching the estimated time ‘till coordinates reached with anticipation.

 

But his cheeks are burning again, and he’s not cruel enough to keep Lotor blinded forever. He’s not sure how much longer he can keep this up. Until Lotor says,

 

“I was the same way.”

 

It derails Keith's attention perfectly, to his chagrin. “How?” He asks, unable to keep the wonder out of his voice. Lotor is at least 8 feet tall. There’s no way he was ever stuck at this height.

 

“Alteans don’t reach much bigger heights than humans, I’m afraid. My father's genes just happened to be particularly dominant, I suppose. They kicked in after a couple extra years, and some particularly brusque environments. Perhaps yours will too.”

 

Keith rolls his eyes. “Environments like quintessence camps?”

 

Lotor chuckles, laughing off the remark. “Environments like communities. Comfortable ones, enriched with copious contact. Since our species is so aggressive, being raised to battle, _from_ battle, it actually activates growth hormones. I heard that your species activates those same hormones from similar, but less aggressive practices.”

 

Oh. Well. That explained a lot. Keith groaned. “I think I got into more fistfights than hugs when I was a kid. And we’re not supposed to fight.”

 

“I’m not telling you to seek more conflict. You want to grow into more a human, rather than more of a Galra, don’t you?”

 

“I-” Keith stops short, unsure if he knows exactly what Lotor is implying now. “But you just said you-”

 

“I know what I said. And quite frankly, I would’ve proffered the less violent route as the other half of my heritage would have it been. I had not affection nor much kindness in my rearing either, after all.”

 

“You’re telling me if I want to be taller… I just need to.. Ask for more hugs?”

 

“Yes. Although I think it might be better to ask for them because you want them, rather than to become a little taller.”

 

Keith's eyes widened at that, his face pinkening at the call out. “I, No, I have-” He sputtered. This was _embarrassing._ “I have-”

 

“Not enough, from what I can see.” Says Lotor, _Close_. Closer than he’s ever been before. Right in Keiths ear.

 

The breath on his skin is a death fortune that Keith can’t move fast enough for, sure he’ll see god before he can turn around in time to face Lotor.

 

And somehow he does.

 

In the time Keith takes to brandish his sword and get up and out of his chair, Lotor uses it to pull off his helmet and take Keiths unarmed hand-- and pull it close, close and closer, until they’re chest to chest.

 

And instead of a hit, a jab, a knee, or a strangle, Lotors arms pull at his back until their chests are flushed. And there is nothing aggressive about it.

 

He could stab him, right now. He could end Lotor right there, if need be. And yet, he’s frozen once more. Confused again, as Lotor gentles him into a more comfortable position.

 

“There we are,” He says, no longer constrained or muffled by his glass prison. Smooth and practiced from the weeks journey on board the Black Lion. One of his hands trails up and down the small of his back, exposed and without armor, sending Keith comfortable shivers up and down his spine, trying to relax him.

 

Lotor could just as easily pick up his bayard, his marmora blade, and end him here too, if he wanted. And yet, Keith remains still. Unsure if he wants to anymore.

 

“This ought to help you stand a little taller, hm?” He says, and when Keith looks up, Lotors eyes eagerly turn towards his own, devouring.

 

* * *

 

Lotor spends the remainder of the time with him outside his portable holding cell, and when that time is up, he goes right back in. No questions, no objections. No fights or pleas out. He goes willingly. Keith fixes the broken mechanism Lotor used to escape it. He delivers Lotor to his Court to remain incarcerated until trial.

 

When that Trial comes, Keith is there to testify on his behalf.

 

The rest of his team is shocked and upset. But Lotor gets out with a lighter sentence, provided with mandatory therapy and the possibility to not spend fifty whole years if he behaves better. He’s allowed to take him out on visits, and slowly, he becomes better at learning Lotor. And Lotor comes to learn the ace in the hole.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I've always seen a lot of potential in Keitor. There's so many parallels between them, and I really hope we'll get to see them interact more in future seasons. Plus that fuckin' height difference is hnnng.
> 
> hit me up on [tumblr @rooftoprush](http://rooftoprush.tumblr.com) if you too would break out of holding to hug someone  
> i post improvised drabble and fic there too
> 
> leave a comment if you like what i write so I know to write more!
> 
> Check out the [Keitor Zine here!!](https://keitorzine.tumblr.com/)


End file.
